And like a dying ladya poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley

And like a dying lady, lean and pale, Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,Out of her chamber, led by the insaneAnd feeble wanderings of her fading brain,The moon arose up in the murky East,A white and shapeless mass.

And like a dying ladya poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley

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